


Hardest To Fall

by thirium_bae



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Language, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirium_bae/pseuds/thirium_bae
Summary: He snuffs your existence with his cold heart but still you love him…





	Hardest To Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](https://thirium-bae.tumblr.com/)...
> 
> Machine!Connor Mini Drabble

Drip

_Drip_

**_Drip_ **

****

Constant, grisly and draining is the cacophony of life ebbing away from mortal flesh. Bruised and battered lies the heart more so than vessel. Quick action brought you middle of chaos, snowy atmosphere floating in a puff of pure white despite the blackness of this hour. The outcome is one that would have killed you anyway. 

This is only another way to die. For him it is one mercy to no longer be held by his thrall. Perhaps if you listened this wouldn’t be your fate. 

The moment he came there was no stopping the seal of destiny. Partially you are to blame because once you assumed  _you_  could change him. 

Lying here now you wonder how this happened. How can something so beautiful be so destructive? Can you rationalize when a warning came strictly from the source leaving you in denial? 

It’s so easy to fall. Body, heart and soul sinking into chocolate fire eyes aflame even as you call his name; he leaves you broken. Searching for answers in your dim existence slowly fading into oblivion leads to only one true home.

“Did I not tell you, Y/N? That I am incapable of this thing you call love?”

Even as his voice overwhelms there is still a shining beacon. He is a fear in the night. Stone cold but beautiful bathed in a backdrop of violent blue. Thirium smearing the walls where many a deviant met their ultimate end at the hands of a monster stealthily, expertly moving through the chilled night of Detroit. 

They are all gone. All of them…

“Connor,” strangling breath of life rests on his name. A name sweet on your tongue matches how you originally view him. That android sent by Cyberlife. The one who chose to accomplish his mission but of course there is more. You told him there was more. 

He often reminded you of what his purpose actually is. That he is a deviant hunter. Androids are meant to obey. So he obeyed but you did not stop. You did not stop wanting to know him, wanting to be close, to live inside his gamut of electrifying violence. 

The boy who likes dogs. The boy who has such big brown eyes, soft and sweet. All lies. All fabrications in your mind because this is what Cyberlife made him to be. A mere construct of the human that is not.

The android moves shoes echoing over floor, stepping and weaving through bodies of slaughtered deviants taken out by rapid fire. Some cut down from military but others -

Connor tilts his head to peer down at your immobility. A hue of violet begins to mix in a bleed of crimson mingling with thirium. Already stained thickly blue where you fell creates a fascinating palette to most who theorize what it ultimately represents. Human and androids in potential coexistence but now those hopes all die along with your fragile human exterior. 

Watching intently to laborious breaths push your chest in a rise for air forces the still machine to shift. Crouching near you, his eyes narrow onto a trickle of red running down from the corner of your lips. Lips that once held his in a flux of urgency, attempting to draw true emotion out of a hard mechanized shell. He once indulged unknowing of what viral it would spread. 

You became a virus. A virus of deviancy and he purposely shunned breaking down his walls to snuff Markus out from his futile revolution. Yet, he does not leave. He cannot look away as his name sails on this voice that haunts his circuitry. 

 

“I am a machine,” he once spit venomous. “Machines do not love.” 

“You’re more than that, Connor! _Please_ , listen to me…”

 

Part of his memory it replays that final moment before following a path to Jericho. It is the last image he holds of you vulnerable in humanity which makes you weak. The very thing you tried to instill in him, tugging at his synthetic insides like a poisonous viper. Coiling yourself around this construct within that falsely beats as a heart. 

He has no heart. He is soulless, infinite and the terror that androids struggling to be free flee from in their pitiless bid of hope. Connor is the android sent by Cyberlife following orders. 

Yet, he took you. That evening when you confronted and begged him not to use evidence for Jericho’s location. Ensnaring him in vile affection, arming yourself with words sugary and poetic. You were toxic to his system. A means of getting in his way to complete his mission and the android furiously lay claim to your human flesh. It is what you craved then. It is what you crave now even as you lay dying from no fault but your own stupidity. 

He flashes to it in his visual. The needy moans pouring up your throat, writhing in sync beneath his hard, manufactured body; soft, easy to snap in half if he so chose. He did not. 

Instead Connor fucked you into the night using his advanced protocols and physical upgrades for their initial purpose. RK800 equipped with the latest technologies, stronger than any who has come before. Able to use a guise and seduce if need be due to Cyberlife’s engineering. 

Despite this mere programming he felt - **_pleasure_**. Unable to fight this unnecessary sensation created a stronger will to fight deviancy from spreading. 

It still threads dangerously down to the wires glistening in sparks, a portion of glittering visible from an open slice upon his cheek. A small injury following the fight with Lieutenant Anderson; the seasoned detective fell to his death from rooftop. 

“I told you not to follow me, Y/N.” Connor’s voice is cool. No emotion holds his features. He simply chastises your involvement knowing that you will not approve of him getting rid of the lieutenant. No one must stand in the way. They never had a chance of stopping him. 

Jericho is no more. Markus is dead. The revolution is ended and Connor is the all encompassing storm that tore it to pieces. 

“C-Con.” Choking out as lungs fill with blood it’s not his weapon that took you down. It was misfire from soldiers. Through blindness of pain all you heard next were horrific screams. Those soldiers…he tore them apart. For you? No, of course not. It was to remain the victor. They can never kill Connor. He’s an immortal being so powerful, so cruel but you love him. 

Reaching up brings a palm to his cheek. Even splattered in a mix of thirium and human blood he is the face you long to see. “I-I knew,” you strain. “I knew you would kill me.” 

Connor’s eyes lock onto yours. He stares, unmoved but inside…inside his head is screaming. Beyond the code, syntax blocks blaring red, another voice cries out in the void of machine: 

“Y/N! _Please_! No!”

The deviant echo trapped behind the wall can only watch in horror as you slowly slip from existence. 

 

The machine that Connor chose to remain is all that is left. He watches you die a slow, agonizing death because you could not obey. You could not listen. Following him here sealed this path. 


End file.
